


Notion

by spacegirl11



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26123845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirl11/pseuds/spacegirl11
Summary: As a little boy, he used to fall for the romantic bullshit, that one day his soulmate would find him and they were going to live happily ever after in a white house with the red picket fence and a few dogs, the idea stopped being entertaining when Jeff found the flowers blooming in places he couldn't hide so easily.
Relationships: Axl Rose/Izzy Stradlin, Duff McKagan/Slash
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. Calling out my name, Screaming out in vain

**Author's Note:**

> Don't mind me, I'm just moving my works from rockfic, I already posted this once but deleted it, so I'm sorry for that, but a few warning before we begin, this is a soulmates Au, where every time your soulmate gets a wound or a cut, flowers bloom on the same spot, child abuse it's mention because of the nature of Bill's childhood, but everything happens behind closed doors, a brief mention of the f-word. Title comes from Tash Sultana's song of the same name.  
> Well, stay safe, take care, and without further ado, into the reading, enjoy!

The first time it happened, according to his mom, he was barely two years old; she remembered the deep blue ink embedded in his soft pale skin, forget-me-nots instead of damn red roses. He hated them in his teenage years, but he didn’t understand what it meant.

His mom would talk about it nonstop, and the joy would always without a doubt reflect in her eyes. For a moment, she could forget about her own failed marriage. He knew there was more to the almost magical stories she would tell at night before bedtime.

As a little boy, he used to fall for the romantic bullshit, that one day his soulmate would find him, and they would live happily ever after in a white house with the red picket fence and a few dogs. He stopped entertaining the idea when Jeff found the flowers blooming in places he couldn’t hide so easily.

Naturally, he was expecting a girl, maybe even that cute blonde in his English class that often lend Jeff her notes and wink at him whenever he entered the classroom.

In reality, he was expecting anyone.

Anyone but _him_.

Jeff knew Bill Bailey, had seen the fiery redhead in the hallways, and in the few times he attended school with his floral shirts and bell-bottom jeans, he heard what people talked about him behind his back. The first time he formally met him was after he had the entire teachers running after him.

He thought it was a ballsy thing to do, he often questioned the whole school situation, it wasn’t for him but he never thought of doing anything that bad or stupid, later in the evening when Jeff’s in his room trying to do his homework he feels the sting of the flowers as they blossom around his forearms and ribs.

The next day he didn’t see him; Bill returned to school two days later wearing a thick sweater. It was the middle of March, and the spring heat was unbearable; the brunet was wearing his denim jacket to hide his marks.

Something about the ginger caught his attention, maybe it was the different bright hair color that made him stand out like a sore thumb, but it was like being pulled to a magnet; he approached the redhead in the middle of class, tugging at his sleeve. Bill flinched and glanced at him with his brows knitted together and a puzzled look; Jeff produced two cigarettes he had stolen from his pocket. The ginger seemed to understand and flashed a satisfied smile towards Jeff and nodded.

He never thought he would spend the rest of school behind the bleachers with no one else but Bill; they talked about assignments and music, after all, he heard about the redhead. It surprised Jeff that not everything was the truth. Bill was volatile and had quite a temperament, but he was a pleasant company to keep on a good day. After that evening, it became a ritual; Jeff often found the redhead waiting for him after school in the alley beside the building.

At first, he didn’t put two and two together that Bill was his soulmate. They were still acting awkward, barely knew each other for over a month; it took him by surprise. They were together smoking a shared joint from the weed Jeff sold; the redhead wasn’t wearing a sweater or long-sleeved t-shirts, and the taller boy took a glance at the purple blueish splotches on his almost translucent skin.

The brunet didn’t dwell too much on it, just assumed that Bill got in plenty of fights with that kind of attitude; the ginger realized that Jeff’s stared at his arms and immediately covered them with the jumper he brought from home. The brown-haired boy just looked away, feeling ashamed.

Jeff tried not to be weird and pretended that he saw nothing. But Bill cursed under his breath and, without saying goodbye, bolts up, running away. The brunet brushed it off and finished the joint, making his way home.

He’s lying in his bed and cannot get the image of the bruises on Bill’s arms out of his head; the brunet looks down to his arms, tracing the flowers with his index finger, thinking how similar they look to the bruises on the redhead. His eyes widened, and he covers his mouth with both hands.

He sat up too fast that his head started spinning; Jeff kept looking at the flowers. And the realization hits him.

Bill Bailey, it’s his soulmate, the temperamental boy that takes no bullshit from anyone is his soulmate. Suddenly he understood why he kept being pulled towards the other boy; Jeff ran a tired hand through his face and groaned; he doesn’t know what kind of shit Bill’s involved in that leaves him beat up so badly, but it has to stop, Jeff can’t hide the flowers forever.

After he thinks thoroughly, Jeff reluctantly decided not to bring the topic next time he sees the redhead at school. If Bill knows, he doesn’t tell the brunet, and Jeff resigned himself to hide the flowers as long as he can.

**. . .**

Months passed, and it was the middle of summer; it’s hot outside and, instead of going out to enjoy the weather, they’re in the basement on Jeff’s place. The designated spot to hang out when the boys got bored with the train tracks.

The only sound comes from the old squeaky fan and The Rolling Stones humming softly from the record table; Jeff took a swig from his almost empty beer can and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor with a loud clank.

Bill flinched at the sound, blinking a few times before glancing at the brunet; he noticed the ginger’s stare; the redhead had barely touched the can, toying with the rim, it’s probably piss warm beer, but Jeff reached for the can and snatched it from the redhead’s hands.

Jeff’s feeling buzzed from the alcohol in his veins, and stares at his friend; it’s odd before he met Bill, he really didn’t have any real friends just the boys he would sell weed to and the dealers, but the brunet recognized he tolerated the redhead’s presence, Bill shifted audibly and Jeff turned to look at the other side.

“You ok?” said Jeff, trying not to slur his words as he clutched the can. Bill rubbed at a sore spot in his back; if only the other boy knew what Jeff was hiding underneath the black t-shirt. The redhead nodded and snatched the can back, taking a mouthful of warm beer.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, man, you almost finish my drink, greedy bastard,” Bill retorted with a sneer, but there’s not an ounce of anger in his voice; he’s seen the other boy so pissed his face turned the same shade of red as the hair in his head, but today he’s not that angry.

With a newfound boldness, Jeff glanced at his friend and cleared his throat, tasting the bitter beer in his mouth. He just wanted to ask Bill about the bruises, but he doesn’t know if he’ll cross a boundary; he’s almost drunk, and his inhibitions are halfway gone.

“Who does this to you?” Jeff scooted closer to the smaller boy and reached for Bill’s arm, looking at the bruises like a morbid constellation of purple, green, and blue on his soft milky skin; the redhead shivered from his touch and tugs at his arm so the brunette can release him.

“It’s nothin’, Jeff; I fell” Bill shrugged and retrieved the sweater, a permanent fixture on him.

“C’mon, Billy, you expect me to fall for that shit?” Jeff doesn’t recognize the sound of his voice like he’s watching this unfold from outside his body; he sees Bill’s eyes flare with anger, a fire he’d seen before, never directed towards him.

“I fell in the bathroom, nothin’ serious” Bill tried to force a smile, but Jeff could see right through that facade.

“Someone does this to you?” pressed the brunet, eyeing the other intently. Bill’s face was a blank expression, and Jeff didn’t know how to interpret that.

“Can you drop the subject? I don’t understand why now you care so much, “Bill muttered something under his breath, but the brunette couldn’t make out the words.

“I just care for you, that’s what friends do” it was a shitty thing to say, a little manipulative but enough to make Bill talk, but he looks up at the brunet with glassy eyes and sighs.

“It’s my dad, alright? There you have it. My fucking dad does this shit to me; he says that I’m a sinner that needs to learn a lesson” Bill clenched his fists and got up quickly; his jaw is tight, and tears threatened to spill from his green blueish eyes, like the violent sea on the beach during a dangerous storm.

Sometimes Jeff wanted to hurt himself, scrape his knees when he was skating with his brother or accidentally cut himself while he helps his mother prepare dinner so that whoever’s his soulmate can deal with the flowers just like he does.

But now knowing that Bill’s his soulmate and it’s his father that inflicts so much damage to the redhead, Jeff realizes the flowers are nothing compared to what the ginger had to endure every time he went home, it makes his heart feel heavy and ache, a pang of sadness erupts from him.

Jeff blinked and approached his friend as if it were a wounded animal so the redhead won’t run away. He learned the hard way not to touch Bill without his permission; the brunette looked at him with big brown and stormy eyes and wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, Bill’s shaking against his chest while the sobs wreck his lithe body.

The record has stopped, static filling the room, and the squeaky fan’s irritating. The time has stopped, Jeff doesn’t want to let go of the smaller boy; it scares him how serene he feels while holding the boy.

Almost as if Bill belongs there between his arms, how he desperately wants to protect the smaller boy from his father and whatever danger he may encounter, the redhead looks up and rubs his red-rimmed bloodshot eyes.

“I need to go,” Bill looks down, unable to face his friend before he exits the room. The redhead stays on the threshold, toying with the sleeves of his sweater “Jeff... can you please not tell anyone what I said? See you at school.”

The redhead leaves, and Jeff remained in the basement, slumped on the carpeted floor. He reaches for the hidden cigarette in his pocket; the nicotine filling his lungs and calming his frantic mind, Bill never leaving his mind.

**. . .**

“Do you believe in the whole soulmates bullshit?” inquired Bill on a misty October day, and Jeff almost choked on the soda he’s been drinking.

They’re on the train tracks again under the shadow of a tree, Bill’s lying belly down, his red bangs are covering his eyes, and the brunet can’t read his expression; but turns to look at him, coughing and licking his lips.

The redhead it’s wearing a thick grey sweater. He seems to love this time of the year, nobody questions him about the bruises, and it’s an excuse to keep covering them; Jeff can’t say anything because he’s hiding something similar.

“Maybe, you don’t?” answered Jeff, and the redhead pulled his bangs aside; he looked so boyish, starting to leave his baby fat to uncover sharp features, a jawline that could cut anything and high cheekbones, he’s turning into a handsome young man. Meanwhile, Jeff’s all gangly and weird looking.

“Sometimes I do, but I have this gut feeling my soulmate’s miles away from this shitty place,” shrugged the boy, and Jeff chuckled, “What’s so funny, Isbell?”

“Nothin’, just that you believe in soulmates,” Jeff smiled and took a sip from the can. They weren’t in the mood to get high or steal beer from the little corner store.

Bill shook his head and pulls out a couple of grass strands from the ground, and gives a lazy smile.

“It’s just something that helps me, the girly bullshit that there’s someone for me” Jeff loved those little moments when he could have a heart to heart conversation with the fiery redhead, a rare occurrence nowadays with his moods seem to get worse each passing day.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here” Jeff’s voice was brittle; those Bambi brown eyes bore into the smaller boy, his pupils were blown making his eyes even bigger; Bill waited for Jeff to laugh and dismiss what he was saying, something the other boy would often do, make plans but never fulfill them.

“You’re serious?” inquired the redhead, Jeff laid down, grabbing a cigarette and dangling it from his pink lips, Bill licked his lips, his sight never leaving that mouth.

The redhead felt his cheeks turn red, the flush obvious in his pale skin; Jeff was an attractive boy, always had a mysterious aura surrounding him that seemed to pull Bill closer. The ginger dismissed the thought; he wasn’t queer or anything, or that’s what he told himself to sleep at night.

“Dead serious,” Jeff took a long drag from the cigarette smoke coming out from his nose “Gonna get a job and leave this shitty place, never coming back, you can come with or maybe you prefer this boring life, maybe you can be a priest like your dad.”

The brunet turned his attention back to the smaller boy; he was enjoying getting the boy railed up, but Bill shoves him; Jeff felt something akin to an electric spark with the redhead’s touch. He was like a live wire, always setting him off.

“Once we’re out of school, we’ll skip town, maybe go west, to L. A, have a band” Jeff shrugged and gave the cigarette one last drag before dropping it into the ground and stomping it.

Bill’s smile was a rare sight nowadays, but when it came, you wanted to see it more often. Jeff could see it time and time again and he would never tire of it; he always thought the redhead was beautiful.

So boyish and innocent looking, but with a fire, no one could match; he associated those thoughts on the fact that he was his soulmate and not because of his developing feelings.

  
  


**. . .**

Jeff couldn’t sleep. The cold during the middle of November was almost intolerable, the comforter was doing a shitty job keeping him warm, and he kept tossing and turning, unable of falling asleep. The window was open, and the slight breeze wasn’t helping; he heard a tousle outside; a softly uttered curse; the brunet propped himself up on his elbows, and Bill crashed in his floor with a loud thud; he hoped and prayed that his mother heard nothing.

He could see the silhouette of Bill obscured by the darkness of his room; the ginger didn’t need to say anything; Jeff knows why he’s here, can see it on his skin. Bill didn’t turn on the lights and mutters a silent prayer, it’s too late to explain the matching flowers in his skin; the redhead climbs underneath the covers and rests his head on the pillow; Jeff gingerly searches for the wounds in the boy’s skin, with the pale light of the moon reflecting from the window, he can see the splotches of red and blue like a sick painting, Bill shivers under his touch and hisses at the contact, bruises still fresh and angry.

There’s blood dribbling down from his nose and dried blood on his split lip; Jeff gets up and goes to the bathroom, glancing at his reflection, the little blue flowers in the same place of Bill’s injuries they almost look poetic under the fluorescent yellow light of the bathroom.

He wets a towel and grabs the bottle of rubbing alcohol before going back to his room; the ginger sits up almost immediately, and Jeff tends to his wounds; the silence is deafening, but there’s nothing to say.

Bill’s breathing it’s enough to calm him down like a reassurance that whatever happened at home, it’s over and, he made it out alive, but Jeff fears that next time the fireball won’t be so lucky and they will take Billy out in a body bag, it’s a scary thought keeps him up at night.

“He’s... fuck” Bill hisses when the brunet brings the cold rubbing alcohol close to a wound on his eyebrow. None of his injuries need stitches, “The fucker is not my father.”

“Bill, I’m sorry” Jeff leaves the towel aside and runs a hand through his hair, it’s getting longer, and he needs to cut it, but there’s a high chance he won’t do it, no matter how much his mother complains about it, Bill gets up from the bed and the brunet can see that he’s visibly shaking.

“All my life, Jeffrey, all my damn life, I’ve been forced to obey that asshole. Forced to call him father when he beats the living daylights out of me every chance he has because according to him, I’m a drug addict whore that drinks every night,” Bill couldn’t contain the tears as they fell freely from his eyes, leaving wet tracks on his cheeks, his fists clenched and his jaw is tight.

Jeff’s heart falls into the pit of his stomach, pumping loudly behind his ears, ever since the fireball confessed to the abuse of his father. Well, now stepfather inflicts on him, he found the other boy climbing through the window of his room at night and sometimes sleeping on the floor not wanting to disturb the brunet; he left the window open after the first time he found Bill throwing pebbles at his window.

He gently approached the redhead; he doesn’t care if his mom can hear them; he wants to make sure that the ginger feels safe and wraps his arms around the smaller boy, resting his head in the soft hair, tickling his chin. Bill clings to him as if his life depends on him and Jeff’s heartbreak at the inconsolable sobs of his friend.

The brunet guides his friend towards his bed and pulls the comforter over both of them; Bill swallows audibly and closes his eyes, Jeff pulls aside his strawberry red bangs; he can see the faint freckles on the bridge of his nose, more prominent when they’re out in the summer.

He’s transfixed on the redhead’s beauty; he looks so angelic with his pale eyelashes resting on his cheeks, that strong jawline, and almost perfect nose. The brunet brings his friend closer and cups the back of his head. Bill can feel the fiery breath of the other boy ghosting over his lips, almost kissing, but the redhead pushed the other boy forcefully away from him.

Bill covered his face with his hands. His cheeks reddened with embarrassment. The closeness of Jeff was confusing his already conflicted mind and forced him to go into overdrive; he always thought the brunette was attractive, a little awkward but overall cute and handsome, all tall and slender, how much he wanted to keep kissing him, but, his stepfather always taught him that seeing other men the way he saw his best friend was a sin, his breathing was labored, and he felt anxiety creep upon his chest.

“Shit, Jeff, I-I-I’m not a fucking faggot.” stammered the smaller boy and shot up from the bed looking frantic; he stayed near the window, contemplating leaving and sleep in the streets because going home was not an option. His train of thoughts stopped by the brunette’s warm hand on his shoulder.

Jeff had to choose his words with caution; he was sure that whatever he had to say, Bill wouldn’t listen, and he wasn’t sure what to say to reassure his friend. This was awkward, he wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with the fallout.

“Fuck your dad, Bill and whatever bullshit he made you believe, you’re free to do whatever you want, let’s ditch this fucking place and do whatever we want, you’re no sinner Bill, and If we are at least, we’ll be rocking with Hendrix, Joplin, and Morrison in hell,”

Jeff tugged at the sleeve of Bill’s green sweater to guide him back to bed. His eyes felt heavy and his body was screaming at him to sleep until he’s satisfied. The fireball glanced at him with his glassy and red-rimmed eyes and let his friend guide him to bed.

Once again Jeff pulled the comforter over the ginger’s shivering body. He snuggled against the pillow, closer to the brunette and holding his hand, to make sure his friend won’t leave him through the night; finally, Jeff closed his eyes. Even though he’s tired as fuck, sleep doesn’t come soon.

The next morning, Jeff’s bed was cold; he’s concerned that maybe Bill saw the matching flowers on his skin on his way out, without the safety of the dark to cover them, but if he saw something, he said nothing next time they meet on the train tracks.

**. . .**

When Bill got older, the beatings became more constant. His stepfather could not contain the rebellious teen, but at least the bruises weren’t more obvious; again in places Jeff… no, know it’s “Izzy” could easily hide.

Bill would often hold his hand and rest his head on his shoulder when they’re alone. Sometimes they would kiss if the redhead felt bold enough, and it satisfied Izzy. At least it quenched the itch to be near the ginger.

The fireball dropped out of high school and started working on the little bar in town, the only place they could hire him because of the reputation and criminal record he carried around.

Sometimes Bill helped him with his homework, and the fireball is smart, but there’s no human or divine force to placate him, not even Izzy can.

Now they’re practically joined by the hip, if Bill’s at a party, Izzy’s close to him. They became a package deal, and the brunet had mixed feelings about it; he feels trapped and overwhelmed between his dream and his soulmate. Bill’s a boy who’s never been loved in all his life and, now Izzy’s been burdened with the task of loving him, he soon realizes that he doesn’t want the white house with the red picket fence.

He knows that there’s more life than soulmates, on one night, in the darkness of his room with Bill sleeping soundly beside him; Izzy decides to finally leave Lafayette and pursue his dream.

Once he graduates. He’s leaving the shitty life of cows, bitter cold, and cornfields. He looks to his right; there’s a small smile on the redhead’s lips and a serene expression on his face.

The emotional side of him wants to stay, provide, and protect the smaller boy or take him away and hide him from the rest of the world, but he can’t be tied down to Bill.

He has enough money to run away and made it to the west coast; Izzy doesn’t dwell on the thought, and with determination, finishes preparing his escape.

Izzy graduates high school with a mediocre grade; he packs all his shit in the beat-up Chevelle, his mother’s screaming nonsense at him, and Izzy couldn’t care less. He turns around to face her, and his mother slaps him; the brunet holds his cheek and flares his nose, it’s the first time she laid a hand on him and knows from experience that once a boundary is crossed, she won’t be able to stop.

He’s sure that Bill now sports the same flowers on his cheek. The brunet nods and climbs into the pilot seat, his childhood home getting smaller as he drives and disappears completely when he turns around the corner.

He tries not to picture Billy’s sad and disappointed face when he later climbs into his room at night and finds him gone.

Izzy stops the car and can feel the tears prickle behind his eyes; he hits the steering wheel repeatedly, bites his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and finally cries for the first time in years.


	2. I can't take my mind off of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I've been looking for you for weeks, man you're a bitch to find" blurted out the familiar deep voice, it's deeper than last time he heard it, the brunette gawked at him, it's Bill, he followed him to L.A, he's sure he's white as a sheet, but either way Izzy moved aside to let him in, the past he tried to bury came back to haunt him

His mouth was dry, and he could taste the bitterness of bile in his throat from the alcohol that came the same way it went down. And he’s almost sure that there’s dried vomit on the white shirt he slept with.

His head was throbbing, and his ears felt like someone submerged his head in a bucket of honey; there was a loud knock on the door and Izzy closed his eyes. Whatever’s going on can wait; he’s too hungover, his head is killing him. The infernal sound stopped, and the brunet sighed content, snuggling closer to his pillow.

The knocking returns with a vengeance; Izzy grumbled and kicked the sheets to the floor and went to answer the door half-naked. The sun of midday was hurting his eyes.

The unwelcome visitor behind flinched at the sudden sound. And all the brunet can see is a mass of red, limp, and greasy hair. The figure smiled at the brunet and hugged him tightly. Suddenly Izzy is wide awake, his hangover already forgotten.

“I’ve been looking for you for weeks, man, you’re a bitch to find” blurted out the familiar deep voice, it’s deeper than last time he heard it. The brunet gawked at him, it’s Bill, he followed him to L. A, he’s sure he’s white as a sheet, but either way, Izzy moved aside to let him in, the past he tried to bury came back to haunt him "What’s the matter, Isbell? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost."

Bill laughed loudly and sat down on the dilapidated and moth-eaten couch; the ginger hasn’t showered in days and he’s skinnier since the last time Izzy saw him, ribs jutting out like a starved animal and stomach flat.

He still maintained that boyish quality of his features, his hair was now at shoulder length, the longest it’s ever been since he met him.

“What are you doing here?” Izzy’s brows were furrowed, hands on his hips, watching intently at the redhead.

Once again, Izzy’s felt the magnetic and almost electrical pull to the boy, like a short circuit enveloping his body; this time, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore.

That hug left him wishing for more contact. He bit his bottom lip and tried to dismiss the spark and tension that was undeniably still there.

“You’re not the only person with a dream,” said Bill, and his face was unreadable; his green eyes seemed to bore on the brunet, making him squirm in his place in the middle of the living room.

Well, if they could consider the small and dirty one-bedroom apartment with the piss-stained mattress in one corner a ‘living room’

“When did you arrive?” Izzy went to the pile of dirty clothes next to the mattress and grabbed the jacket he wore yesterday, looking for the crushed pack of Parliaments only to find it empty; Bill got up and offered the brunette a Marlboro red from his pack, “How did you find me?”

Izzy wanted to sound annoyed. After all the effort he put to get away from everything, the redhead found him so easily; but he’s not as intimidating as the other boy, and he probably looks ridiculous with his brows furrowed, arms crossed, and puffed out chest.

“Like three weeks ago; been couch surfing with some guys and sleeping with the hobos every other day,” Bill pulled a crumpled-up paper with a photo of Izzy’s current band; the fireball shrugged and lit his cigarette.

“I almost forgot that you went by Izzy nowadays.”

Before the brunet could reach for the lighter near all his drug paraphernalia, Bill took Izzy by the back of his head, fingers brushing the black, greasy locks.

And pulled him closer, their cigarettes kissing. The brunet was sure that his cheeks were bright red; the redhead looked at him with half-lidded eyes and grinned devilishly, blowing the smoke in his face.

“You’ve been sleeping on the streets?” Izzy cleared his throat, ignoring his hard-on and taking a seat at the edge of the mattress “I know it’s not much, but you can stay on the couch, dude.”

“Thanks, man, I’ve applied for a job at the record store. The manager seemed to like me,” Bill winked at him and stubbed his cigarette in the sole of his cowboy boot.

“How’s home?” Izzy took a long drag from his cigarette and watched the smaller man. No, he still looked like a boy. They were barely 20 years old, adults but not mentally, just barely getting there.

“Boring as always, had to get out of there, they would mark me as a regular criminal, could be in jail for 20 years, probably can’t get back now,” the redhead laughed, but there was no emotion in there, just plain old bitterness “They throw me out of the house cus’ I refused to cut my hair, can you believe that shit?, felt like in the fucking military, couldn’t deal with any more bullshit, man I left and haven’t looked back ever since.”

Izzy felt sorry for his friend, but somewhere deep inside, the brunet felt relieved Bill was away from the clutches of his worthless stepfather and derange family.

The guitarist got dressed in what he assumed to be the cleanest black t-shirt he owned and the pair of black jeans from yesterday; they headed out to the unforgiving summer sun and into the madness of L. A.

Bill trailed beside him, following him close and looking at everything like a child in a candy store.

He still had some money from last night’s gig, so the brunet took him to the cheapest restaurant where Bill could eat something close to a decent meal. He was so skinny that it made Izzy’s stomach to hurt. His cheekbones were far more prominent since the last time he saw him, but somehow that made him look more angelic; his long bright red hair fell on his shoulders and framed his face perfectly.

“Something fucked up happened in St. Louis, I’ll tell you later” Bill took a heaping bite of scrambled eggs, pointed the fork at his best friend, and the brunet could only imagine it, the little forget-me-nots were blooming in his right cheek, and he had a gig that night, he looked ridiculous.

Later in the night, after he took Bill to a bar and getting his fix, they returned to the little room the taller man was renting; Izzy collapsed on the old mattress, riding high on the waves of smack in his veins. Bill didn’t judge him; in the middle of the night, the fireball sneaked into his bed, and maybe he was dreaming, but he could feel the ghost of Bill’s lips on his own.

It wasn’t the first time they slept together or shared a bed, but Bill’s presence quenched the gaping loneliness like an open wound that was bleeding ever since he left Lafayette.

Finally, his soulmate was beside him, and it satisfied the emotional side of him.

Izzy didn’t acknowledge how the redhead was the missing puzzle piece in his life when Bill arrived; they fell into the same well-practiced script for some intricate movie scene. This time it wasn’t just innocent hand-holding or always reaching out for each other. The first time they ended up in bed was after a fight, one in the millions to come. Maybe it was because the guitarist wanted to try other bands.

Izzy wasn’t sure at all, but this time the brunet crashed his lips on the redhead’s to finally silenced him; Bill bites his lips until they were red and bruised, teeth breaking the delicate skin, almost making it bleed.

“ _Fuck..._ ” Bill’s voice was low and husky. He detangled himself from the brunet to catch his breath; Izzy sneaked his hands onto the ginger’s slim hips and pushed him towards the bed until Bill’s shins contacted the mattress.

The redhead caressed Izzy’s face, licked his lips in anticipation, and dropped to his knees. Without thinking it through, the fireball looked up at his friend, silently asking for permission while pawing at his crotch.

Izzy nodded, and Bill’s cold hands unbuckled the tight fabric of the black jeans making him shiver, his erection got caught in the elastic of his boxers, but Bill’s nimble hands freed his length.

The brunet’s breath was ragged and uneven; he could feel Bill’s hot breath on his dick as the redhead gave kitten licks to the underside of his cock. Giving the head a tentative kiss, smearing precum on his lips, Bill wrapped his mouth around the brunette’s length. The velvety-soft and warm mouth of the ginger felt heavenly.

Izzy feared he might cum too soon. The fireball bobbed his head, the guitarist’s unsure of where to put his hands and rested them on the ginger’s soft hair.

Izzy glanced down at his friend. It was almost obscene, how those beautiful pink lips stretched around his cock; it made the brunet head’s spin; he almost dreamed of this moment every night he touched himself and whispered the smaller boy’s name in the dead of night.

The brunette stifled a moan, biting hard on his fist. The thought made him lose his self-control, and before he could warn the redhead; he spilled his seed in that sinful mouth; Bill made a choking sound and came up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It swelled his lips, red and abused; it sends a jolt of arousal to his already spent length.

After that first night, it became a ritual; the brunet felt like a teenager again, but this time they were free to do as they please without the judging looks of the hicks from Indiana.

Only Bill’s self-doubt, Izzy had prepared a speech every time Bill felt the guilt of what they did in the dark, but either way, that experienced mouth would always leave purple and red angry marks on his pale skin, the girls he had sex with never questioned it.

“Have you found your soulmate yet?” asked Izzy, his breath heavy, biting his bottom lip to suppress a moan as Bill’s tongue glide across his dick.

“Don’t talk about soulmates when I have your cock in my mouth; it’s weird,” Bill’s voice was low, almost a gruff, and that sends a wave of arousal to his already hard dick “ I Met this girl, think it’s her”

That sends a pang of jealousy to Izzy’s chest; in return, the brunet gripped Bill’s long red hair and fucked his throat mercilessly. In his mind, Bill was only his, and no bitch would take him away from him.

The possessiveness took him by surprise, but he expected it. The ginger was free here, and Izzy wouldn’t take that away from him.

When the brunette finished, Bill got up smiling wolfishly like the cat that got the cream; Izzy reached for his boxers, but the redhead swatted his hand away, so the brunette didn’t persist if Bill was in one of his infamous moods, better tread carefully.

**. . .**

Izzy despised her, scratch that, he hated her, her voice, her hair and that cute face and how much Axl appeared to be in love with the girl.  
Said woman was draped over the ginger; peppering kisses in the same places in his neck where the brunette would bite and leave his teeth shaped marks. He tried to look the other way and took a sip from the beer in his hands; he said something in her ear; so she could hear him above the deafening music, and she giggled. That sight was annoying enough to make him gag.

Axl was wearing makeup; the brunet hated how a simple eyeshadow and teased hair made his dick swell against the fabric of his yellow leather pants and how his heart pumped loudly behind his ears to where he thought it would shoot up from his chest and fall on the floor like a bloody fleshy pulp.

They were cramped in a booth on some dive bar and the scene in front of him made him nauseous; he patted the new bassist, Duff, shoulder so he could let him out.

He needed to get out of here, a fix and a cigarette, preferably in that order. He felt Axl's eyes on him as Izzy walked through the mass of sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but ignored those intense green eyes.

The cool, midnight air was a blessing on his hot skin. Nobody followed him, and he didn't expect it. He put his hands on the leather jacket he wore and walked back home; the night was over for him.

The brunet arrived home. The old and grimy house they were basically living in and grabbed his precious smack from the old closet in the room he shared with Axl when he graced them with his presence.

There was no one home except him, but either way, he took the plastic baggie to the bathroom and prepared his fix, the blackened spoon was worn beneath his fingers and Izzy unbuckle his belt, wrapping it around his skinny arm, the vein popped, and he sinks the needle in the soft skin where the older scabs littered it, the wave of heroin washed over him, taking him on a trip he didn't want to end.

He already felt better, Axl and his bitch be dammed, he stumbled towards the mattress and collapsed belly down, a small and lazy smile made the corners of his mouth turned up, Izzy was too far gone to notice the door being slammed, he couldn't even bother to look up.

“Fuckin’ junkie,” uttered the redhead while moving in the ruined room, Izzy wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear him, but he flipped his friend off regardless “Couldn’t wait to get home to your girlfriend, or were you just jealous?”

Izzy giggled and sat on the bed, looked defiantly at the fireball. His pupils were little pinpricks in the sea of doe-like brown and stormy eyes. The brunet looked so effortlessly cool, even high as a kite as he was, while Axl felt too dumb with the cheap makeup that Erin borrowed him.

“Fuck off, Billy,” slurred Izzy with a grin, sprawling his slender body in the mattress like a starfish, it didn’t bother the redhead he was calling him by that cursed name, Izzy could get away with lots of things, and he wouldn’t even be that mad.

“Admit that you’re jealous of Erin, and maybe I’ll leave you alone; came back just to be sure you won’t overdose and kill yourself” Axl crossed his arms and jutted his hip a little. Izzy opened his eyes, squinting at him; the light of the room hurt his sensitive eyes.

“Why should I be jealous if you would come running back into my arms? Erin can’t satisfy you” Izzy made a show of spreading his legs and grabbed his crotch; he laughed as the lovely red blush crept up the redhead’s cheeks, almost matching his hair.

Axl’s face contorted in anger, pouncing on the brunet, taking advantage of his drugged state. He pinned the brunet under him, could easily overpower him using all his weight.

His legs were spread on both sides of Izzy, taking one of his wrists in each hand, stretching them out above the brunette’s head. The redhead felt the outline of the guitarist’s cock straining against the rough fabric of his black jeans.

“You are a slut, Stradlin, totally gettin’ off on this shit, glad that you can still get it up,” Axl’s voice was husky with lust; he grinds his hips against the brunet.

Izzy moaned, and the ginger’s lips were already there to drink up that beautiful sound. The ginger unbuckled his pants, dragging the metal zipper down, tooth by tooth slowly.

“Either you stop teasing or, I swear I would leave this room and fuck someone else, do something, Billy for God’s sake,” whimpered the taller man and bit his bottom lip, looking at his friend with half-lidded eyes.

Axl’s taken aback at how beautiful Izzy looked like this, sprawled and pinned underneath him. It reminded him of a dark desert night sky, with his jet black dyed hair, milky skin, gorgeous lush lips, where you could see stars and hidden constellations above you.

He felt a wave of possessiveness over his guitarist, wanting to sink his teeth and break the delicate skin of his collarbones, leave marks so everyone could know that Izzy Stradlin belonged to him and no one else.

“Promised Erin that I’ll go to her apartment and spend the night” Axl licked his top lip, the pink of his tongue peeking through those luscious lips; he let go of Izzy’s wrists and got up from the bed, leaving the brunette high and dry.

“You motherfucker, can’t leave me like this” Izzy propped himself on his elbows and glared at the redhead who was adjusting his leather pants and his ridiculous teased hair.

“I can and I will, God Stradlin, you’re such a whore” Axl shook his head, and just like that, he was gone, leaving the smell of cheap cologne, sweat, hairspray, and cigarette smoke behind.

Reluctantly, the brunette got dressed again and went out back into the streets of L.A.; he found a redheaded girl. He couldn’t even bother to learn her name. Izzy would forget her in the morning.

Her hair was dyed, and it was the wrong shade of red, but at that moment, it might do the trick; she gave him a mediocre and sloppy blowjob, too much tongue, not the way Bill would do it, Izzy tried so hard to suppress the ginger’s name that rested on the tip of his tongue.

**. . .**

Izzy was getting tired. They were at a dive bar playing a gig; the sound system was fucked, and maybe the brunet was drunker than he thought, but who couldn’t blame him. Axl’s lithe body was slumped against the shoulder of the curly-haired guitarist singing his heart out, keeping Slash in place with a firm grip around the younger boy’s neck.

Izzy was sure that he was doing it on purpose; the fireball was constantly glaring at him behind his aviators, smirking every time the brunet’s gaze landed on him.

While Slash was against him, taunting the taller man, waiting to get a rise out of him, that and the outfit he wore, those assless chaps that left nothing to the imagination were Izzy’s worst nightmare, thank god the white Gibson helped him to cover his growing erection.

Slash was leaning against the redhead, throwing his sweaty curls behind him, sun-kissed skin glistening under the blinding lights. The brunette reached for the bottle of vodka and gave it a big gulp; Duff looked at him with knitted eyebrows.

“ _What’s wrong with you?_ ” mouthed the blond, but Izzy shook his head and dismissed the bassist’s concern with a lazy hand gesture.

Once the gig was over, the group moved to a booth, Duff was sitting beside him, eyeing him wearily; the brunet was always calm and collected it was odd to see him so sullen and angry.

In front of them, Axl and Slash were talking in hushing voices, the curly-haired guitarist brushing his plump lips over the shell of the singer’s ear so he could hear him over the loud music, the redhead took a sip from the beer between his hands, Slash got up and patted the ginger’s thigh, that made Izzy’s blood boil.

A few minutes later, Axl got up, nodded at the brunet, and made his way to the back door, following Slash. Izzy sagged his shoulders, releasing the tension that was building since they finished; Duff directed his attention back to the rhythm guitarist.

“Something bothering you, Stradlin?” the blond gestured towards him and the empty booth in front of him; Stevie made his way to his friends, an enormous smile plastered on his features.

“You guys won’t believe what I saw,” there was no way denying the drummer was drunk off his ass, his words slurred and his gaze unfocused; Duff turned to look at him not before sending the guitarist a warning look “I was outside in the alley with this chick and, suddenly the fuckin’ door opens and, I see Axl and Slash like really going for it, they didn’t see me, I thought Axl was a homophobic asshole”

Izzy didn’t need to hear anymore and immediately was on his feet, seeing the red anger dance across his vision. He busted through the door.

The sight of his soulmate on his knees with a mouthful of the curly-haired guitarist’s cock sends him over the edge; the brunet pushed forcefully at the younger man, earning a yelp from him. His thick curls and the darkness of the alley obscured his face.

“What the fuck is your problem, Stradlin?” Slash tucked himself back in his leather pants, lacing the drawstrings, and glared at the other man. Pushing him with more force, Axl wiped his mouth and crossed his arms. A disapproving look adorned his boyish features.

The first hit landed on Slash’s nose, the blood flowing from his nose onto the white shirt he was wearing, the curly-haired boy pounced at the brunet, a hit landed squarely on Izzy’s jaw, his teeth reverberating with a nasty sound.

He could taste the coppery blood inside of his mouth, which had the brunette seeing nothing but white-furious rage; he gave a few punches before they collapsed on the floor.

Slash on top of him with a vicious snarl, grabbed him by the lapels of his shirt, hitting him repeatedly, Izzy is sure that his nose was broken and his ribs were bruised, the guitarist rings caught up on his nose and cheek, a bruise and a cut on his skin.

He turned around, unfocused gaze landing on Axl. Red roses were blooming in the same places that Slash’s hits landed, but the redhead didn’t mind; he hadn’t noticed.

Before Slash could beat him unconscious, Duff was by their side, separating them, the drummer holding his best friend tightly; the bassist acted like the designated mother hen.

Axl was too drunk to hold himself straight. In the dim light from the street lamps, without the protectiveness from the neon lights, everyone could see the flowers on the ginger’s skin. Duff studied his face, and Izzy could see the bulb go off in his head. Putting two and two together, Steven was mumbling soothing words to Slash, trying to calm him down.

“Next time, take care of your bitch, Stradlin,” said the brunette with a taut voice, Slash spitted on the ground and wiped the blood from his nose.

Izzy lunged at him, but Duff’s capable hands kept him in place, and Slash just flipped him off, running a tired hand through corkscrew curls and leaned exhausted against the smaller blonde. The ginger just braced himself with his arms.

“Let’s scram, before someone calls the police, Stevie, why won’t you and Slash help Ax?” Duff’s voice was gentle as he spoke to the over-excited drummer, a small smile on his thin lips; Izzy wanted to protest; what he least wanted was Slash’s hands around the redhead, around what was his.

“Holy fuck, Cheeto hair’s your soulmate,” slurred the smaller blonde taking a drunk almost unconscious Axl by the shoulders, the smaller boy almost lost his balance but Slash was already by his friend’s side helping him with the singer’s dead weight, grumbling between his teeth and his expression hardened.

“Thanks for the input, Stevie,” said the guitarist sarcastically, and the blonde gave him a thumbs up, almost dropping the singer.

Duff cleared his throat and offered the brunette a cigarette.

Izzy accepted it. The nicotine filled his lungs in a comforting and relaxing way; he watched, amused, as the younger boys walked in front of them; they’re almost equally drunk as the singer. It’s almost comical how Stevie tried to keep Axl straight without landing on the floor.

“Does he know?” Duff’s voice was brittle while he took a drag from his vice, exhaling the smoke through his nose; the guitarist turned to look at him warily.

“Dunno, maybe? ‘m not entirely sure,” it hurts to speak. His jaw’s bruised, and every inch of his body is on fire.

“Thought that only happened in movies,” the bassist sighed and gave a sad smile; maybe Duff longed to find his soulmate, it made the guitarist think on all the times he loathed the blue flowers and how many people were excited to get them.

Izzy knew that sometimes people spend months, years, and even the rest of their lives trying to find their soulmates, and in some isolated cases, they never find them. Duff spoke about it the same way his mother would do it; a hopeful gleam in his eyes longed to find that special someone with whom you could spend the rest of your life. The blond probably thought he was one of the lucky ones.

“I wish, at least you’re not bound to the Cheeto hair,” huffed Izzy, gesturing with his head towards the almost unconscious redhead. Beside him, the blonde gave a thunderous laugh.

Only when Axl was drunk, Stevie could get away with the ridiculous nicknames he came up with, once the drummer called him ‘fire crotch’ and the singer almost broke Stevie’s drumsticks in retaliation.

When they arrived home, Steven dropped the ginger unceremoniously on the couch and went to the fridge for a can of beer; Slash and Duff called it a night and went back to their shared rooms.

Slash averted his gaze from his bandmate. The guitarist didn’t bother to apologize to the younger boy; he didn’t want to hit him; it was just the jealousy speaking for him. The next morning he would apologize and maybe pay for his next fix. Izzy walked towards his friend and nudged him on the shoulder; Axl opened his eyes just a smidge and groaned, closing them again.

“C’mon, Billy ‘m not carrying your ass upstairs; you’re fucking heavy” he reached for the redhead’s arm and pulled him towards his chest, supporting half of his weight. They made the journey upstairs and went to the ruined bathroom; the leak on the toilet was annoying, but beggars can’t be choosers. He deposited his friend in the closed toilet bowl.

Izzy was used to the sleepless nights, the never-ending parties they held in their shitty shared house. There was a strange charm in the sound of distant police sirens, the cars speeding by, and the loud music that erupted from the nearby bars.

Something so different back home where the calm was almost maddening. The sounds from the city lulled him. Like a well-practiced dance, the brunette wetted an old and scratchy towel and began cleaning Axl’s face. The brunet knew that if he left the remnants of make-up, the singer would be beyond pissed.

Izzy gently lowered the drunk redhead on the mattress and, before he could turn around and leave, the singer grabbed him by his wrist, adding pressure.

The brunet looks down at him; the roses around his jaw and nose gave him another kind of beauty. It’s truly the first time he saw them this close, he was so used to be the one with a visible mark of the bond they share.

“It’s you; it’s always been you... didn’t want anyone else to be, too good for me, Jeff, always too good for me” Izzy almost didn’t hear it, Axl’s deep voice is low, almost a whisper in the silent house.

He slurs his words; the singer reached for him, almost falling on the mattress. The redhead cradled his face between his hands, caressing him gently, before crashing their lips together in a hungry kiss, teeth grazing his plump lip almost ferociously.

It’s needy and gross, saliva dripping from their chins, and god if Izzy didn’t long for this since they were at the bar, Axl separated himself from the brunette, breathing heavily, lips red and swollen, bruised from the desperate kisses.

With nimble hands, Axl reached for Izzy’s red shirt and got rid of it, discarding it on the ground with the rest of their clothes; his lips were immediately on the brunette’s chest, licking and biting the expanse of skin, biting the brunette’s sensitive nubs,

The guitarist’s hands tugged at the redhead’s hair, earning a moan from the smaller man; the rest of their clothes ended up on the grimy floor, too caught up in their lust to pick them up or even attempt to fold them.

“Lube?” inquired the redhead and reached for the bedside table; Izzy looked at him in disbelief, it wasn’t often that Bill would offer to bottom.

And the brunet had no problem, a fuck was a fuck, and if he was getting off it didn’t bother him in the slightest, it was a rare occurrence, and he would not waste that opportunity, Axl produced a small tube of lube wiggling his eyebrows

“Gonna ride you until you forget your name.”

Izzy’s fingers slide his boxers down with clumsy hands. He squirted some lube on his fingers, rubs it with his digits so it wouldn’t be so cold; he breached the redhead’s cheeks, parting them and massaging that cute little pink pucker.

Above him, the smaller man moaned, his hair fell in his face like a silky red curtain, hiding his soft feminine features, his hard cock curved against his flat belly. Izzy buried a calloused finger to a hilt, looking for his sweet spot. He found it because Axl moaned rutting against him, a pearl of precum dribbled down from the head of his cock. Izzy scissored his fingers inside the fireball, and he grabbed the guitarist’s wrist.

"Stop, 'm not gonna last" his voice was breathy and labored, he leaned down to kiss the brunette before sinking on Izzy's member until his cock was seated fully inside the singer.

Both of them moaned at the sensation, Axl's velvety heat enveloping him, making his head spin, little sparks flying behind his eyes.

The redhead tried to adjust himself and began moving, bouncing up and down, until the only sound in the room was the distinctive obscene noise of skin slapping against skin. 

Izzy meets each of Axl's thrusts. The brunet's slender fingers reached for the ginger's nipple piercing and tug at it gently, enough to make the smaller man moan.

"Tell me who you belong to" Axl's voice was low, reduced almost to an animalistic gruff; Izzy snapped his attention back at him, unaware that his friend was talking to him. Izzy huffed and laughed, making the redhead open his eyes and looked at him with anger, "You're mine, Stradlin."

"Like hell I belong to you." Izzy knew it was true. In more ways than one, they belong to each other, bound by their souls.

"This dick and all of you belong to me" Axl leaned down again, grazing his earlobe with his teeth; the brunet gave a hard thrust that had the redhead spilling the pearly white cum on his stomach. 

Izzy wasn't that far behind. Gave some lazy thrusts before emptying his seed, his length pulsating deeply inside of the redhead.

Axl collapsed on top of him, regaining his breath, his warm sweaty body against him, a welcomed weight he was used to. The redhead would probably forget about all of this the next morning.

With the light reflecting from the bare window, he could see the red roses stared at him directly from their place on his translucent skin. With extreme caution, he traced the crimson ink embedded like a tattoo.

He didn't cuddle the singer. That wasn't something neither of them did; it was too intimate for them, reserved only for lovers or even soulmates. Instead, Izzy peeled himself away from the fireball's clutches as soon as he drifted into the drunken stupor and finally blacked out; he gathered his clothes, redressed again before leaving. He glanced at Axl with sorrow. How cliché‚ roses for the Rose.


	3. You wonder why it is that I came home I figured out where I belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He spent too many nights daydreaming of a life together with the guitarist, but the fight outside the bar only confirmed his worst fears, no flowers were blooming in his pale skin.

Duff sat on the old couch, chipped cup of coffee in his hands, he tried to sleep since they came back, but his racing mind wouldn't stop thinking, after tossing and turning in bed he got up, the blonde entertained the idea that Slash could be his soulmate, he spent too many nights daydreaming of a life together with the guitarist, but the fight outside the bar only confirmed his worst fears, no flowers were blooming in his pale skin

The creaking of the front door stopped his thoughts, Izzy peered his head and sighed audibly as soon as his gaze landed on the taller man, the blonde smiled tiredly at him.

"Where have you been?" murmured Duff's voice echoed through the house like a whisper, the gypsy didn't answer him instead he made his way towards the stairs, gripped the worn handrail and caressed every dent in the old wood, behind him Duff stood to his full height, coffee already forgotten, long pale legs on display with the black basketball shorts he wore.

"Is it because of Axl?" Duff crossed his arms and looked intently at the brunette, Izzy couldn't even look directly at him, his bruised face obscured by his greasy black hair.

"It's better for everyone in this godforsaken band that he does not find out" Izzy murmured tiredly, Duff opened his mouth to retort but he closed it again, brows knitted together and lips pursed into a tight line "It's not the right time, I'll leave for a little while"

"Why are you being such a shit?" Izzy wasn't sure if he saw Duff that angry since he met the gentle giant, it made him nervous, the gypsy bit his lip hard enough to open the split making it bleed, the bassist looked like an intimidating dark mass, Izzy sighed and massaged the sore bridge of his nose.

The taller man shook his head and brushed past the guitarist, left his unfinished coffee in the sink. The black liquid tasted like shit anyway, all the off-brand crap they could afford tasted like it, but beggars can't be choosers.

"When it's gonna be the right time? When both of you are too old for this shit?" Duff's voice was a mere peep, barely audible in the room and ran a hand through his blonde locks, brown eyes glared at him "You don't understand how lucky you are"

His mother used to tell him the same thing when he was a teenager, that he got lucky to find his soulmate so easily, but that kind of life wasn't for him, he couldn't see it through pink-tinted glasses, the gypsy eyed the younger boy, his dark eyes were glossy, it made Izzy felt guilty to see him so defeated; he had a lot of things to thought about, a little of space wouldn't affect anyone, he needed to be away from Axl.

"I don't want him to look at me like this" no matter what he said, it wouldn't help his case.

"Better said than done, you don't want him to know he's your soulmate," the blonde crossed his arms and shook his head, "What the hell am I supposed to tell Axl?"

"You'll figure it out, I'll be back next week" finally the brunette climbed the stairs and moved through the room in silence, evading all the squeaky parts of the floor, he produced the old and worn duffle bag from the closet and packed some clothes, his gaze averted from the sleeping figure of Axl wrapped tight around the yellowish sheets, snoring softly, chapped pink lips parted.

He couldn't look at him, his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, in other occasions the electrical buzz from their bond would relax him, but not today, he only felt a cold sweat washing over him, he closed the door silently, Duff wasn't in the living room anymore, the blonde probably went back to sleep, Izzy couldn't handle another confrontation, he looked at the house with disgust and disappeared around the corner.

**. . .**

Axl woke up with the sun hitting him directly on the face, he cursed the offending window and turned to the other side, wanting to snuggle closer to the rhythm guitarist only to find it cold and empty, Izzy wouldn't stay the night, the gypsy wasn't the romantic type; he grabbed the pillow to cover his face and tried to go back to sleep, his entire body was on fire and his brain threatened to explode in the confines of his skull, the house was suspiciously silent for once, he couldn't hear Steven banging his drumsticks in every surface available, Slash practicing his riffs nor the little radio in the kitchen, it was odd for the four men; the redhead yawned and got up and made his way straight to the bathroom.

The singer inspected his face in the cracked mirror he broke in one of his outburst, the little roses around his face were ridiculing him as he traced them with his finger, the crimson ink like an angry scar on his smooth skin, his mind drifted to the guitarist with soft Bambi brown eyes, Izzy, sweet Izzy who put him to bed after he had one too many drinks and having sex with him if the pain in his rear and bruises in his hips meant anything, everything else was behind a hazy curtain in his mind, the redhead opened the tap and splashed cold water in his face before making his way downstairs.

In the ruined kitchen, his bandmates talked in hushed and small voices, at least Duff and Slash, Izzy was nowhere around the house and Steven probably went out with his girlfriend of the week, the taller blonde had already showered and was dressed in clean clothes, no matter how much they drink the night before, the bassist always looked collected and ready to start the day, or maybe it's because it was past noon and he just woke up, Slash holds a cup of stale coffee between his hands, bloody knuckles red and raw, his face bruised, dark purple splotches on his tan skin, the taller man hold a rag with ice over a deep wound on his cheek.

"Don't know what was his problem." muttered the younger boy, looking beyond tired, he brings the cup closer, coagulated blood crusted over his split lip and took a sip, he made a face, it was cold coffee and Slash dumped it on the dirty sink, littered with empty Jack and beer bottles.

When Duff noticed the redhead's presence, he cleared his throat and nudge at Slash with his elbow, who winced when the movement jostled his bruised body, the blonde smiled at him as the redhead grabbed a half-empty water bottle from the broken fridge, he looked warily at the pair; they were acting suspiciously, and that was enough to raise red flags on Axl's head.

"Where's Izzy?" inquired the singer, voice hoarse and deep, knitted brows, he could see the way Slash visibly tensed at the mere mention of the mysterious guitarist name, Axl dismissed it and turned to face the blonde who swallowed audibly.

"Don't know, he didn't come back in the entire night" Duff shrugged, he responded way too fast to Axl's liking, raising the suspicion, the blonde tilted his head to the right looking like a lost puppy.

It wasn't unusual for the brunette to disappear telling no one a word of where he was going; he liked to act like a gypsy and everyone let him, with the unspoken reassurance that he would come back, eventually. This wouldn't be the first or the last time, but somehow it felt different.

"Good, can't stand the fucker right now" growled the curly-haired boy and crossed his arms, Axl turned to gaze at him, raising a brow inquisitively.

"Whoa, who pissed in your cereal this morning, Slasher?" Axl was surprised with the anger of the younger boy, Slash was always so relaxed, few things angered him, it was unnerving to see him that pissed off.

The curly-haired guitarist didn't say a word and stomped out of the kitchen, already climbing the stairs towards his room and slammed the door, making it rattle in its hinges, Axl huffed and followed the brunette. 

"Ax..." whined the blonde and tried to reach for the redhead's skinny arm, but the singer was already at the bottom of the stairs going after the younger boy. He just hoped that Slash didn't fuck up the situation even more.

"What's wrong with you?" asked the redhead, he didn't bother to knock on the door, Slash was slumped in the bed, his legs flushed against his chest, wild curls on the pillow and his back towards the singer, once again he didn't answer him and closed his eyes "Are you mad cus' I didn't suck you off?"

He remembered the unforgiving concrete under his bare legs and how cold it was, the weight of the younger boy's cock in his mouth, Slash turned to glare at him under his mane of curls, Axl saw the little cuts around his face aside from the purple bruises.

"You can thank your boyfriend for that, motherfucker acted like a fucking jealous bitch last night because I was playing with his toys" Slash snarled and got closer to the singer, his back making contact with the hard wooden door, deep brown eyes flared with anger, Axl breathed heavily and felt a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, it was terrifying to have the younger man so close to him, not for nothing Slash was half beast, but what he said sting more, felt like a slap on the face.

He was a toy, Izzy had reduced him to a mere plaything, what he felt for the mysterious gypsy didn't matter anymore, it made his heart pumped loudly, the nervousness eating at his insides and that familiar tightening in his chest, like having one of Slash snakes pressing down on him and taking his life away slowly.  
The younger boy smirked, his plump lips curved into a malicious smile, the redhead could see his bottom crooked teeth, Slash took some steps back, sat on the edge of the mattress, Axl gripped the door handle, ready to leave the guitarist alone.

"You can make it up to me, Angel" was all Slash had to say with his lazy surfer accent, dragging and stretching the vowels, lips curled into that annoying smile, twirled a curl in his finger, something he did when he felt flirty.

The singer knew that he should go back to his room, go to Erin's apartment, look for Izzy and get some answers but he turned around, Slash licked his lips, pink tongue traced over the nasty-looking scab on his plump bottom lip while he spread his legs, tossed his wild curls aside, dark eyes watching his every move, irises so dark with lust they bleed into his pupils.

Axl toyed with the handle and walked towards the brunette who wiggled his eyebrows and patted his thigh, the redhead sat down and Slash calloused fingers thread in his soft hair; he snuggled closer to his neck, nipping at the delicate skin of his ear, those plump lips against him felt wrong, his hands felt foreign on the guitarist skin as he undressed the younger boy and felt the taut muscle give under his warm fingertips, where Izzy was just soft flesh and bone, Slash was all sharp edges and muscle.

"Slash... stop I can't do it" Axl untangle his body from the younger boy and retreated to the corner, braced himself, hands wrapped tightly around himself.

"Fuck, Ax, you're really in love with Mr. Mysterious" Slash threw his head back and laughed all loud. A hand over his tummy, Axl smacked him on the arm and the brunette winced.

"Shut up, Saul, you think I didn't see the way you look at Duff, you drool for him every time he enters the room," the redhead glared at him while Slash sighed and took a cigarette from the pack in the bedside table.

"Guess you discover me, too bad he's not my soulmate" the brunette shrugged, there's a pause when Slash puts the white stick on his plush lips and ignites the lighter, smoke filling his lungs and the room, the smell is enough to calm the singer "Would you love Izzy the same way if he wasn't your soulmate?"

The question took him by surprise. He hasn't thought about it; he spends most of his life on the lookout, always searching for the person made especially for him, only to have it so close, he realized Izzy was his soulmate the moment he saw the forget-me-nots on his porcelain skin while he slept.

"Who told you?" the singer raised his head to see the brunette clearly, Slash gestured towards his face and huffed.

"You should see the other guy as I told you your boyfriend got jealous, and we realized you two are bonded, he's stuck with you for life, poor guy." Slash laughed as he watched the singer glared at him with those green eyes like poison.

"You know if the band doesn't succeed you can be a comedian," said Axl sarcastically and plopped down on the mattress "You shouldn't care, Slasher, go for it, if you feel something for Duff don't let some flowers dictate who you can be with or not"

Axl wasn't that used to having such deep conversations with the younger boy, but he felt like both of them needed it after the night they just had. The brunette offered him a drag of his cigarette; the redhead offered the guitarist a reassuring smile.  
  


**. . .**

It took Izzy two whole weeks to come back, the bruises in his face faded to a yellowish-brown color that he tried to hide behind his aviators and the leather paperboy cap, he knew it was time to return and mustered enough courage to set a foot on the building, a broken house for five broken boys, his hands were clammy, the rhythm guitarist gripped tightly the duffel bag until his knuckles were white and sighed heavily climbing the rotten wood until he crossed the threshold, the house was deserted and in complete disarray, the smell of sweat, weed, and filth filled his nostrils, nothing out of the ordinary, he almost felt at home.

Izzy made his way through the old and moldy pizza boxes and takeout, at the top of the stairs he found the curly-haired guitarist, cigarette dangling from his lips and bottle of Jack in his right hand, the rhythm guitarist ignored him but the younger man blocked the stairs.

"The prodigal son is back!" yelled the curly-haired boy raising his arms, a loopy smile on his luscious lips, Izzy could smell the alcohol on his breath, at least Slash wasn't mad at him anymore, but Izzy wouldn't call it a victory yet "Where you've been?"

The gypsy just shrugged and nudge at the boy so he could let him pass, Slash got up and gave the cigarette a long drag before throwing it on the stained brown carpet. Or was it red? Izzy opened the door to his room. The familiar creak relaxed him and he let out a shaky breath he was holding. So far, so good. A figure slept on the mattress, and he could make out the bleached blonde locks of Duff. It was weird to see him asleep in his room, but maybe the bassist was too drunk the night before to walk towards his room.

"The hell with the new sleeping arrangements?" muttered the brunette and once more discarded his duffle bag in the closet where not a single piece of Axl's clothing rested there, he furrowed his brows but dismissed it, Slash was slumped against the threshold, unruly hair fixed on a ponytail, lips formed in a pout and looked at him defiantly.

"Last time I told you to take care of your things, Stradlin" Slash gave the bottle of Jack a swig, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, silver bracelets jangling, unfocused eyes darted around the room until they landed on Izzy's.

Izzy turned to face him, he was right to not celebrate earlier, the curly brunette looked at him with an insufferable smirk, and the brunette's eyes burned with the raising anger, he just came back and he didn't need to listen to Slash drunken schoolyard taunts.

"Is he always that good to fuck?" the curly guitarist threw his head back and laughed loudly, a hand on his chest "You didn't tell me he was so easy; you should have seen him all naked underneath me."

The gypsy didn't let him finish before he had him pinned against the dirty wall holding him close by the collar of the black shirt he wore, the bottle of Jack fell on the floor with a muffled sound from the carpet, Izzy breathed heavily, fist curled tightly just mere inches above of Slash's face, but he just shook his head and licked his lips, like a snake seizing up his prey, it was a lie; it didn't go that far. They did nothing besides that failed night outside in the alleyway, but all in the name of pushing the brunette's buttons.

"What, you're gonna hit me again?" Slash pushed him lazily, that whole commotion woke the blonde up and he was rubbing at his tired eyes with both hands, as soon as his sight landed on the two men bickering, he was on his feet and got between them to prevent another fight "Let him, Duffy, so he can run away like the coward he is"

"Motherfucker." growled Izzy and again lunged at the other brunette but he was interrupted by the front door being slammed shut and the unmistakable sound of footsteps downstairs, the gypsy sighed and Slash took a seat in the mattress, putting his hand under his chin.

"Man up, Stradlin, tell the princess you're his soulmate so we can go back to any sense of normalcy" the curly-haired boy looked tired and defeated, he wasn't afraid of Izzy, Axl was not anyone's property, he wasn't some prize to collect, it was all in good intentions, to push the brunette enough so he would confess to the redhead, it would've been nice just for the sake of saying he had sex with the fiery redhead, but Axl only had eyes for his gypsy.

As soon as the words left Slash's mouth, the singer peered his head in the room and looked at everyone, his soft coppery hair fell on his shoulders and his lips contorted in a pout as his eyes scanned the three boys, the roses were gone, as if nothing had happened, like a fever dream that Izzy just woke up from, Duff coughed in his hand and Slash left the room.

"Izzy" chimed the ginger. His eyes sparkled as soon as he spotted them, but he recovered his composure and returned to his icy stare "Finally you're back, we almost put an ad for a new rhythm guitarist"

Izzy shrugged and brushed past his bandmates, made his way downstairs and sat in the old couch that squeaked under his weight, Axl looked at him from his position at the end of the stairs, glad that the gypsy was back, right where he belonged.  
  


**. . .**

Heroin satisfied his every need.

Izzy didn't felt hungry or tired, instead, he felt like running around or write a bunch of songs until he collapsed of exhaustion, deep down he was afraid that at that moment in his life he loved his drugs more than he could ever love Axl, said ginger was draped all over Erin's lap, they were giggling between kisses like schoolgirls; it was driving him crazy, ever since he returned, the singer was so dismissive to him, avoiding him, every time they were on stage he danced around everyone except him, the gypsy longed to have his lithe body against him.

The cold shoulder treatment was pushing him over the edge, but with the heroin in his system he couldn't give a fuck even if he wanted, if the singer wasn't that drunk he would yell at him he was a worthless junkie and Izzy would probably roll his eyes for the umpteenth time, by that point he already had memorized the insults the redhead thrown at him, he wouldn't admit it out loud, but he missed having him near.

The boys were on a bender; they hadn't slept in the last three days, hopping from bar to bar snorting coke, shooting up the amber liquid and drinking Jack as if it were water, they were celebrating after so many bands and so much sacrifice they finally got signed to a record label; the music rumbled against the walls of the house with a pulse that reminded the gypsy of a beating heart, Izzy got up, stumbled his way to the kitchen where the remaining alcohol bottles rested on the broken table, the brunette was in the middle of pouring himself a drink when Duff's ring clad hand stopped him midway.

"I think you had enough," Duff said calmly, his soft voice gentle and understanding. Slender fingers tried to pry the bottle away from Izzy's clutches, but the brunette only holds it close to his chest and huffed, amused.

"Jesus, Duff, what are you, my mother? I can take care of myself" Izzy slurred and gave the bottle a swig, feeling the familiar burn of whiskey as it made his way down and pooled warmly on his stomach.

He stumbled out of the kitchen and up the stairs, careful so he won't split his skull open, the blonde watched him like an overbearing mother but he returned to the couch he was sharing with Steven, Axl and Slash were none the wiser, they kept sharing a joint and talking softly, Duff rolled his eyes but gave his bottle of vodka a big gulp.

The gypsy made his way to the bathroom and closed the door. Perhaps it was the drugs, but he felt fire coursing through his body, the room was spinning and he collapsed under the cold wet linoleum floor; it felt nice against his flushed skin, the thump of his heart behind his ears was growing faster and more erratic by the minute, the tiles dancing around in unfamiliar shapes and colors.

His mouth was dry like he swallowed a bunch of sand, his consciousness drifted away, leaving him in the dark until he felt capable hands that hold him tightly and checked on him, cold fingers made his greasy dark locks aside, the brunette opened his eyes a little, the light above them was too bright, unfocused eyes landed on red copper hair and the familiar face of the singer, Axl's face was paler and his pink lips were moving but Izzy's mind was too muddled to make out the words and he felt like his ears were stuffed with cotton, all of this could've been his sick mind or the drugs playing tricks.

"Fucking dumbass" muttered Axl between clenched teeth, the redhead was sobering up quickly as soon as he heard a thud upstairs, but grabbed him by the armpits and dragged the limp body of the gypsy to a sitting position, Izzy's lips were blueish and his gaze unfocused, if something happened to the guitarist, he wouldn't forgive himself.

The sight of Izzy's unconscious body made him anxious, the brunette tugged at the redhead's hem of his shirt weakly, the little contents he had in his stomach threatened to make a comeback and before he puked on the floor, the redhead dragged him towards the toilet bowl, where the gypsy emptied his stomach, Axl's hands were on his hair pulling it aside.

Once he was done, Izzy wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his unbuttoned white shirt, this wasn't a fucked-up illusion, of all the people he expected to come by his aid, he was sure as hell that Axl wasn't one of them but, there he was in front of him, concern clouded his sharp features, the brunette reached to pinch the singer's cheek and in return, Axl yelped confused, the gypsy felt like a car passed over his body, eyelids heavy and the redhead grabbed him by his shoulder and gave him a rough shake, his stomach churned at the movement.

"Don't fall asleep, Stradlin, don't you dare die on me, you bastard" Axl's voice was frantic, a high pitch that hurt Izzy's ears, while the redhead kept shaking at the guitarist. "Fuck, fuck."

The brunette could hear frantic and muffled voices from outside the bathroom, he could make out the blurry blonde hair of Duff and the black mass of curls from Slash, Axl dragged him to the yellow-stained tub where he got in first and with Duff's help, they deposited the brunette between his open legs and without a warning they opened the shower, cold water hit him directly on his body, Izzy gasped but he immediately felt less lethargic and drowsy, his breathing was heavy, his gaze focused on Axl's worried eyes, he nipped at his bottom lip nervously.

"Billy." Izzy's voice seemed distant, under the low florescent pale light of the bathroom Izzy could see the wisps of the singer's pale eyelashes, his hair darker with the water, all of him was like an old Renaissance painting, with his boyish innocent looks, with a shaky hand the gypsy caressed the apples of redhead's cheek, relishing in the softness under his calloused fingertips "I- I have to tell you something"

Before the brunette could say something, Axl put his index finger over his blueish lips and cradled him closer to his chest. His heartbeat lulled him, the rise and fall of his chest washed him with relief.

"I know, Jeff, don't talk, keep your strength and don't fall asleep on me" Axl's voice was low and deep, their soaking wet clothes cling to their bodies, it was uncomfortable but neither of them attempted to get out of the tub.

Izzy grabbed the back of Axl's neck, thumbing at the fine red hairs there, heart-pumping loudly behind his ears, he pulled him closer, didn't care that Duff and Slash were watching, and kissed the ginger, feeling euphoria on his lips, the all too familiar spark that binds them together, Axl's kiss was tender and attentive like all the previous times.

"You think I wouldn't find out?, you were shit at hiding them" Axl always spoke enough for both of them, he traced the shape of Izzy's perfect nose, before resting his forehead against the gypsy, the brunette could feel the sparks from the live wire that was Bill Bailey.

It wasn't the ideal time to be talking about that sensitive topic, not when Izzy almost overdose and died but, definitely not when the brunette was crashing and falling from the high waves of heroin but, right now with Axl so close to him it was enough, the redhead was like a pleasant sunny day in their hometown; he was home. No matter how far he could run, the singer would be there with his arms open and a special place in his heart. This was what he longed for.

This wasn't like the fairytales his mother used to tell, Izzy knew it, sometimes love was not enough and it sacred him because they were too broken in their own fucked up way, the redhead was like a piece of shattered glass, even if he tried to put the pieces together, he couldn't make him whole again to the way it was in the beginning.

Axl helped the brunette stand up and guide him to his room. He settled Izzy down on the mattress and looked for a pair of worn sweats; he handed them to Izzy and help him undress; it was weird to look after the gypsy; he was the one to always patch him up; he wanted to make it up to him. When they changed into more comfortable clothes, the redhead pulled the scratchy duvet over them and held Izzy close. So, his gypsy wouldn't run away in the morning.

Duff sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, an enormous weight lifted from his shoulders, the blonde rested a hand over Slash's slim shoulder but immediately remove it as his cheeks reddened up, but the curly-haired boy reached for his hand and laced their fingers together, Duff looked at him with shock and disbelief but let Slash's warm hand rest heavily against his own, the corner of the smaller boy's mouth quirked up and the blonde felt the heat rise to his ears, it was enough.


	4. How about these notions, they're deep as ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The singer knew what happened to the people who lost their soulmate, poor bastards died of heartache, alone for the rest of their lives with the flowers as a reminder of what took them away, yesterday terrified him, all night he dreamt of his gypsy dying in various circumstances if he lost Izzy he wouldn't know what to do anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggle too much with the end, originally I planned to be just two chapters but, it evolved in something more complex at the second chapter, but here's the end, I hope you enjoy it, I edited as best as I could, sorry for any remaining errors and the spam :c

The first thing he noticed as soon as he woke up was Izzy's peaceful face sleeping soundly close to him, knees digging against his tender skin, Axl put two fingers near Izzy's nose, to check if he was still breathing before detangling himself from the brunette's grasps and reached for the cigarette pack on the bedside table, an orange spark erupted from the lighter, the nicotine filled his lungs and relaxed his frantic thoughts, not only he was so close to fulfilling his dream but now he had his soulmate beside him, after waiting and searching for years.

The gypsy stirred, his jet black hair in complete disarray and sticking out in every direction, there was dried drool on his cheek and his eyes were droopy with sleep, remnants of last night still linger in the air, tension raised as soon as the brunette opened his eyes, like a dark cloud hovering above, it was the first time in two weeks that they see eye to eye and Izzy was afraid that the redhead's still mad at him for whatever reason; he found Axl already awake, smoke billowing from his hand.

"You could've died" Axl's voice was hoarse and raw as if the singer swallowed a bunch of rocks while Izzy slept his high away, shame pouring down his spine, green eyes were cloudy, distant, worried, he looked at Izzy as if he was made of glass and could break at any minute "What would I do without you, shithead?"

The singer knew what happened to the people who lost their soulmate, poor bastards died of heartache, alone for the rest of their lives with the flowers as a reminder of what took them away, yesterday terrified him, all night he dreamt of his gypsy dying in various circumstances if he lost Izzy he wouldn't know what to do anymore.

"I'll probably fuckin' fall apart without you, never fuckin' leave me again" Axl laughed, a humorless sound, but the brunette knew better, something was eating him inside, unspoken words that weighed heavy inside his chest, there was no gleam in his eyes, just an empty stare.

"Dunno if you realize but you're stuck with me until one of us dies" Izzy turned to face his soulmate directly, tilting his chin gently so their gazes meet. The familiar green of his eyes made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

"Then we better die together, don't wanna keep doing this if you're not here" Axl brings his knees closer to his chest, hiding his face between them and releasing a shaky breath, his eyes sting with the unshed tears, he spends all his life surrounded by loneliness and he just wants Izzy to stay beside him no matter the circumstances.

Izzy thought about that last day in Lafayette, when he left without a single goodbye, how alone Axl must have felt, no one to come at his aid when things at home got worse and the guy in St Louis who tried to rape him while he slept. Once a long time ago Izzy was the knight in shining armor, kept the monsters that lurk in the dark at bay. Only for a little while when he needed to forget how awful his life was.

The guitarist felt pathetic and ugly laying in his mattress with his bare torso and the sweats that the singer lend him, clinging low on his slim hips, he couldn't be strong enough for both of them, not when he had to rely on the drugs to achieve any sense of happiness, he was a fuckup and his worse fear was to bring Axl down with him; the fireball caressed his greasy black locks, those impossible big sad eyes even bigger, never leaving the sight of his face.

Misery loves company and it was a cosmic joke from the universe itself to bond the two most broken people together, loving Axl was a taxing job, but Izzy wouldn't do it if his heart didn't pump so loudly and his breath hitched every time he laid eyes on the smaller man.

"Why are you so afraid?" uttered the singer when both of them stayed silent, the distant sound of a police siren the only noise outside the safety of the ruined house. He cast down his sight, but Izzy was sure that he was crying.

"I'm goin' to ruin this, Bill" Izzy hides his face between his hands "We're gonna hurt each other so bad and you wouldn't forgive me, don't want to hurt you."

He doesn't finish the sentence, snapped his mouth shut and his head hangs low between his shoulders, black hair falling in front of his face, the guitarist didn't want to hurt the redhead more than all the things he had to endure, his mother not caring about him, not having anyone that could shield him from the abuse, no one until he met Izzy.

"Jeff, fuck, you don't understand? I want you when you're drunk at four in the morning and piss in the mattress when you puke your guts out or you're too high to make it through the bed and I have to carry you," Axl raised his voice it faltered a little, he was containing the tears, his face red with frustration.ÿ

Axl deserved way more than a fuckin' depressed junkie that would hurt him even if he didn't want to, everyone but him, who wants to put him together with blood and soft stitches, but how could he do it when he was too broken and couldn't repair himself.

"I want to wake up in the mornings and the first thing I see is your stupid beautiful face with your stupid and attractive lips and those brown sparkly eyes that I love so much, fuck Jeffrey, want to buy a house with you, make you breakfast every morning and adopt a bunch of cats," blurted Axl frantically getting up from the bed "I want. I want to grow old with you"

"You don't want this, Billy, I know you don't" Izzy shook his head and rested a heavily calloused hand on his bare shoulder, feeling the warm and smooth skin.ÿ

"Don't tell me what I want, Jeffrey, I love you, can't keep doing this without you, I'm fuckin' in love with you that sometimes it just hurts, is like having a damn open wound" Izzy felt the flutter of butterflies in the pit of his stomach creeping up onto his throat slowly and the brunette feared that he might choke on its wings, Axl exhaled and breathed heavily.ÿ

"Ax..." Izzy swallowed and sighed, suddenly feeling unsure, it's too much, his hands were clammy and shaky, he needed another fix "Fuck, you already know it, you know damn well that I love you, but I'm gonna ruin this"

The last part was almost audible a whisper that fell from soft pink lips, Izzy scooted closer to the singer and grabbed his left hand, kissing his knuckles and Axl felt fuzzy, the brunette slides a silver ring with a turquoise stone, it's his favorite and he can see the surprise in Axl's eyes, it's a promise, a promise that he would never leave.

"You've got to promise me that every once in a while you're gonna wake me up with breakfast in bed and you in nothing but an apron," Izzy stated and pressed his lips on Axl's shoulder blade, the redhead laughed and smirked.

"Would you like that?" questioned the singer, raising a brow and smirking devilishly, Izzy licked his bottom lip and closed the gap between them, kissing the singer deep and expansive, just like all the times he did before only this time he felt a giddy warm erupting from his chest.

Axl deepened the kiss, teeth grazing the delicate skin of his bottom lip, while his nimble hands reached for the elastic of Izzy's sweats, their noses squished against each other, the redhead's heart was beating loudly in his chest, Izzy's hand tangled in his silky hair, they fell on the bed breathing heavily, hastily removing the scarce clothing, the brunette felt lucky, only he could see this beautiful creature so vulnerable with his long pale neck exposed and ready to mark, his thighs spread slightly and so invitingly, Izzy's cock felt impossibly harder in his uncomfortable boxers at the sight, he couldn't get enough of his beauty, he didn't want to admit it but he felt a wave of possessiveness every time he looked at him, Axl belonged to the crowds of people who adored him, but in the privacy of their room the redhead was his, his to love, to fuck and wreck, that body, that perfect hair, those green eyes like the calm sea, it all belonged to Izzy, he kissed his soulmate one last time and reached for the lube in the nightstand, the cheapest one they could afford and they're running low, the brunette squirted a good amount and went to open himself but Axl grabbed him by the wrist and batted his eyelashes.

When Axl heard it, it was faint, and it almost went unnoticed but it's unmistakably a moan coming from the thin walls that separated his room and Slash's and the distinctive sound of the creaking springs from the bed, Axl snorted and he giggled, a hand on his mouth to keep himself quiet, Izzy scoffed but he joined the singer in his fit of laughter, it all ends with screaming coming from the other room and a door being slammed, the brunette probably should get up and see what all that fuzz was about, but immediately Axl's lips were on him and everything was already forgotten.

Later, when they're having breakfast on the dilapidated table, Steven looked shaken, his sunny smile replaced with a frown and a furrowed brow.

"I'm scarred for life" announced the smaller blonde. Before taking a fistful of cereal from the box and shoving it in his mouth, Duff's cheeks were a lovely shade of red and the curly-haired boy smirked.

Izzy noticed the way Slash's and Duff glanced at each other when they aren't looking and how Duff leaned more towards the younger boy. The brunette smiles and puts a reassuring hand on Axl's thigh, squeezing it.

The first apartment they buy has only four bedrooms, it's not much, but it is what they could afford after the record deal, besides, they don't have a lot of things, vinyl's here and there and the clothes they sometimes share, an old couch they bought from the street, it's nice to have a clean house that doesn't smell musky and dirty, but not having to share the bathroom. 

Izzy's thankful he doesn't have to dodge weird and wet stains in the carpet or takeout boxes. Either way, they don't spend a lot of time in the apartment; the tour had been tiresome and never-ending when they're not touring. The studio and tour bus became a second home.

Izzy's not very fond of life on tour, sometimes he missed the bed when Axl and he were cramped on the bunks all tangled up in a mess of limbs, the quiet from his own home and above all, the sacred privacy that more and more became sparse, he was tired of hasty and rushed blowjobs in the bus's bathroom or the dressing rooms before a show and Axl was not of any help, always grinding close to him in those impossibly tight leather pants.

He loved his friends, there was no doubt about it but if Slash kept walking on them trying to have sex or if he had to see Duff's dick one more time, he would probably castrate both, but overall, he tolerates it, the infinite parties with the alcohol flowing freely, as long as Axl's beside him, holding him close and whispering sweet words in his ears while they laid together, it was more than enough.

**. . .**

It’s his birthday, his 40th birthday, he barely recognizes the man in front of him, his mind can’t believe it he made it this far after everything that he went through, it feels like a milestone, a miracle, his thoughts were stopped by a pair of arms with fading tattoos wrapped around his waist, a small smile creeps to the corner of his mouth, he knows too well who those arms belong to, can see the once long shiny red hair now a shade a little paler, he won’t get grey hairs and maybe Izzy’s a little jealous of that, Axl planted a tender kiss on his shoulder and rested his head on it, he’s still wearing the turquoise ring, after all that time, it’s not as shiny as before, the fake silver paint chipped and worn around the edges, the sight of the ring brings back so many memories and a warm feeling in Izzy’s chest, he remembered the day it got lost while they vacationed in Japan, Axl almost had a heart attack, he tried to buy another one, a proper ring for someone that special, but the redhead refused, unable to part ways with the cheap jewelry.

Axl looks good, even though the designer jeans he wears are awful, he looks good and Izzy tried to ignore how his heart still beats faster every time he sees his soulmate, there're wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, but to the brunette, he looks as handsome as when he was 20, his green eyes still sparkle and now he smiles more, while Izzy just looks like the old man he’s become.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Axl sighed but looked for Izzy’s eyes, those doe brown soft eyes that bring peace. He could drown in them, never get tired after all the years spent together.

“I’m old” Izzy smiles, making the corners of his mouth wrinkle, they’re more prominent now around his mouth.

“We’re old, baby,” corrected the singer and quirked an eyebrow, he still makes the same faces and Izzy finds it endearing “I make peace with that thought a long time ago, honey Do you have something in mind for later? Maybe dinner at that little restaurant you like”

“Would you still love me if I get older and uglier?” Izzy examined his face more intently, Axl didn’t understand where those thoughts came from, but he was determined to shush them away and reassure his soulmate. 

“Listen to me, Isbell, you can have two hundred years and I would still love you, let me remind you I didn’t leave you when you got the dreadlocks,” the singer laughed and Izzy would never tire of that melodic sound.

“Don’t bring the dreadlocks, Billy, remember those braids?” Izzy pointed an accusatory finger towards the redhead who just rolled his eyes, the brunette leaned and placed a peck on the redhead’s lips, Axl turned him into a sap, but only the singer is the only one to see him like that so vulnerable.

“I have a gift for you” announced the redhead and laced their hands together, Izzy sits at the edge of the mattress and watches as Axl rummages through the bedside table, the brunette’s eyes fixed on his soulmate, he loved the redhead too much that it came naturally to him, he wants to keep getting older beside him, can’t imagine his life in any other way, the singer produced a small golden box with a red ribbon and giggled, placing it in Izzy’s hands.

“Ax, you shouldn’t have some dinner would be enough” stutters the brunette and looks up to see Axl’s softened features, a small smile in the corner of his mouth, inside the little box it’s a ring, the gold band engraved with roses glistening with the rays of the sun creeping up from the gauzy curtains.

“I hope I’m not too late, but felt like it was the time to do it,” Axl swallowed nervously and scratched the nape of his neck “Jeffrey, we’ve known each other for so long, we shared girls, drugs, alcohol, and a microphone for years and I’ve been so stupid for not asking you this before, but I would be more stupid if I let you go, so Jeffrey Dean Isbell would you marry me?”

Izzy’s smile drops and he’s sure that his jaw is in the floor, Axl’s leg was jittering and he’s chewing on his bottom lip, leaving it red and swollen, the brunette picks up the ring between his hands and observes it, before sliding it in his finger.

“Is that a yes?” the redhead lets out a shaky breath and plops down next to Izzy, “Don’t expect me to drop on my knees, I’m too old for that”

“Wait until I told Duff that bad boy and diva Axl Rose just proposed to me,” the brunette turned to look at Axl, the man made especially for him, feeling lucky to share a life with him 

“I would marry you in a heartbeat, dumbass”

“Told you, Stradlin, you belong to me” Axl shrugged and wrapped the brunette tightly against him.

With his soulmate in the safety of his arms, Izzy thought about the white house with the red picket fence and the dogs and ever since he found out that Bill Bailey was his soulmate, that idea didn’t sound that bad anymore, the brunette felt satisfied and content; he planted a passionate kiss on those pink and luscious lips that he knew so well; he felt like he could face the world head-on. They still had a long life ahead of them, a lifetime to create, explore, and they would never have to be alone again.

For the first time since his mother would tell him stories about soulmates, he started to truly believe in them and Izzy was sure that his own Bambi brown eyes reflected the same spark his mother used to have, he could drown on Axl’s love and he would be fine.

Izzy didn't want anyone else to be his soulmate but Axl Rose.


End file.
